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by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  ‘You’ll get on grand,’ Catherine yawned. She was annoyed at the way Bridie had commandeered her bedroom without even asking, but if it helped Maisie settle in then she could hardly complain.

  The next day went well, all four of them going to Mass, then returning home for a big breakfast of bacon, eggs and fried bread. The day was wintry but they took Maisie for a walk along the pier, pointing out the harbour and the fishing fleet. When they got home, the girl told them there were sixteen boats in the bay compared to twelve boats at the harbour back in Ireland, one of which belonged to Uncle Michael.

  ‘You’ll be a help to me when it comes to countin’ up the pennies for shopping,’ Kate said with a laugh.

  But on Monday morning there was a scene when Bridie left for work. Maisie went to the door and howled like a baby. Kate tried to pull her back, but the girl was strong and pushed her over. Bridie came back and reasoned with her daughter, but by this time she was hysterical. Mrs Hind came to her door, demanding to know what the noise was all about.

  ‘Get her to count the stairs,’ Catherine suggested in desperation. ‘How many stairs can you see, Maisie?’

  The crying subsided a fraction. Maisie peered over the banisters.

  ‘Auntie Kate will count them with you,’ Catherine encouraged. ‘Go on,’ she hissed at her mother.

  They left Kate and Maisie walking up and down the stairs, counting out loud.

  Each morning, Maisie’s protests at her mother’s going lessened, until she sat at the table unconcerned and not even calling out goodbye.

  Catherine noticed the way the girl began to follow Kate around, and wanted her to fix her hair rather than Bridie.

  Kate grumbled, ‘I cannot even gan to the privy without her comin’ too. She’s like me shadow.’ But Catherine was sure her mother was secretly pleased that Maisie had taken to her so quickly.

  Bridie was less keen on her daughter’s transfer of affections.

  ‘She’s too old to have her hair put in ringlets,’ she complained, when Kate bound Maisie’s hair in rags one night.

  ‘She’ll look bonny,’ Kate contradicted, ‘much better than that old maid’s bun you make her wear.’

  ‘Look bonny,’ Maisie echoed solemnly. ‘Sixteen ringlets.’

  By December, Catherine insisted that Maisie move out of her bedroom and into her own.

  This is my flat,’ she pointed out, when Bridie prevaricated. ‘You can squeeze into Maisie’s room with her if you want to stay together, but I’m having my own bed back.’

  Far from having the tantrum that Bridie predicted, Maisie accepted the move without a murmur.

  ‘I like the blue room,’ she announced at breakfast. ‘Milk and two sugars. Thank you, Auntie Kate.’

  As Christmas drew near, they threw themselves into preparations for their first Christmas together at the new flat. Kate was given extra money to buy ingredients for mince pies and plum pudding. Catherine and Bridie had a happy Saturday afternoon buying presents, and Maisie helped them decorate a tree, though she broke as many baubles as she hung up.

  ‘Watch out, you clumsy lass,’ Kate scolded, as Maisie knocked into her when she was carrying a hot tray of pies. Three of them rolled on the floor. Maisie fled to her bedroom.

  ‘It’s you should be more careful,’ Bridie defended; ‘could’ve given the girl a nasty burn.’

  Kate dumped down the remaining pies. ‘You make your own Christmas dinner then. I’m not your bloody servant!’ She whipped off her apron, hurtled to the door and grabbed her coat on the way out.

  ‘Where you going?’ Catherine called after her in alarm.

  ‘None of your business,’ Kate shouted as she slammed the door.

  Bridie looked baffled. ‘What did I say?’

  Catherine sighed. ‘I’ll go after her. She might have money in her pocket.’

  She caught up with Kate along the front. A cold sleet splattered over the railings. ‘Stop! What’s got into you? Bridie was just upset at you shouting at Maisie.’

  Kate was about to answer back, then her shoulders slumped and she let go a long sigh.

  ‘I’m sick of Bridie ordering me around like a skivvy as if she’s lady muck. And that Maisie,’ Kate complained, ‘she’s canny enough, but it’s hard work having her around all day on me own. I cannot gan anywhere without her tappy-lappying along and talking daft.’ She gave Catherine a look of desperation. ‘Can I not have a little drink this Christmas, a bit fun, hinny?’

  Catherine turned away and gazed out over the choppy grey sea. The last thing she wanted was her mother drinking again. Yet she had shouldered the burden of running the house and looking after Maisie with little complaint. It must be lonely at times, with no other friends or neighbours to gossip with or lighten the day. Did she not deserve a celebratory drink just this once?

  ‘Please, Kitty,’ Kate pleaded, ‘just a little nip on Christmas Day.’

  Catherine turned and said, ‘Just with Christmas dinner, then.’

  To Catherine’s surprise, their first Christmas together was a happy one. The day was crisp and clear, the sea pearly blue as they made their way to Mass. Bridie had insisted on staying behind to make the dinner, to give Kate a day off, and Maisie walked contentedly between them, wrapped in a new purple scarf and hat that Catherine had chosen for her.

  When they returned, Catherine was puzzled by strange whining and scratching noises behind the bedroom door.

  ‘What you got in there?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘The turkey escaped?’

  Bridie laughed. ‘Go on, open the door and let the darling out.’

  The moment Catherine did so, a small white-haired terrier came scurrying out, skidding across the linoleum with a bark of excitement. He ran around her legs, then raced around the table, leaping up at Kate.

  ‘Oh, get down!’ she shrieked.

  Maisie screamed and clapped her hands, which only made him bark louder. Catherine went at once to pet him. ‘You’re a bonny lad, what’s your name?’

  ‘That’s for you to decide,’ Bridie smiled. ‘He’s yours. My present to you.’

  Catherine gave a cry of delight. ‘Mine? That’s wonderful!’ She crouched down and cuddled the dog, allowing him to lick her face.

  ‘I knew you’d love him,’ Bridie grinned. ‘Had the Townsends keep him overnight - went and fetched him this morning.’

  Catherine laughed as she played with the dog. ‘Aren’t you a dark horse, keeping a secret like this! It’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.’

  Kate snorted. ‘It’s the daftest! This is no place for keepin’ dogs - and who’s ganin’ to look after it while you’re at work? Muggins here, that’s who.’

  Catherine was quick to reassure her. ‘I’ll take him to work with me - walk him at dinner time.’

  She saw the look of fear on Maisie’s face. ‘Would you like to stroke him?’ she asked gently. ‘He sounds fierce, but he’s a big softy, I can tell.’

  ‘Go on, girl,’ Bridie encouraged, leaning forward to pet the dog. ‘Like this.’

  Maisie crept forward and touched him on his rump. He whipped round and jumped at her, licking her hand. The girl squealed and froze, but he kept jumping and licking. Catherine grabbed him and held him firm.

  ‘Now try,’ she said.

  Maisie put out a tentative hand and patted his head. The dog stayed still in Catherine’s arms. She could feel his heart pounding and felt a surge of love towards the animal, so trusting in her arms. Maisie grew bolder and stroked his wiry coat.

  Catherine glanced at her mother, keeping a wary distance. ‘Do you want a stroke?’

  Kate sniffed. ‘Don’t give tuppence for dogs - dirty, smelling things.’

  Catherine was too entranced by the young dog to mind. She laughed, ‘That’s what I’ll call you, bonny lad.
Tuppence.’ She put her face next to his. ‘A Tuppence worth of love, that’s what you are.’

  She knew what would sweeten her mother’s temper and nodded to Bridie. ‘We could open that bottle of sherry now. Toast our new family member.’

  Bridie was quick to fetch three glasses and pour out the drinks. Kate’s eyes lit at the sight of the bottle, which had been hidden in Catherine and Bridie’s bedroom. She finished hers in two swigs and poured herself another without asking.

  ‘I’ll get the dinner served,’ Bridie said.

  ‘There’s no hurry,’ said Kate, her expression relaxing as a warm flush crept into her cheeks.

  But Catherine nodded in agreement. ‘I’ll set the table and carve the bird.’

  They sat down to a feast of turkey and chestnut stuffing, vegetables and bread sauce. Catherine put the sherry bottle away, but brought out the bottle of beer she had promised Kate. Kate was easily intoxicated, but her mood was merry and the chatter light-hearted as they tucked into the food. Catherine slipped a piece of meat to Tuppence.

  ‘Shouldn’t spoil him,’ Kate warned. ‘He’ll be eating off the plates next.’

  ‘She’s right,’ Bridie said, wagging a finger.

  Catherine looked down at the expectant face waiting for more. ‘It’s his Christmas too,’ she said, ignoring their advice and dropping him another shred of turkey.

  ‘Soft as clarts, my lass,’ Kate snorted.

  ‘Yes, she is,’ Bridie agreed with a warm smile, ‘that’s why we all love her.’

  Catherine blushed and laughed. But, just for a moment, she caught a look in Kate’s eye. Was it annoyance or alarm? A glint of anger almost as she looked at Bridie. Then she was swigging at her beer and laughing too.

  ‘Mind you, she wasn’t always sweetness and light,’ Kate declared. ‘Was a right bossy madam with the neighbours’ bairns - always wanting to be leader. And the dares she got up to, nearly turned me white-haired, she did. Used to play on the timbers down the Slake - deep as the sea at high tide - if she’d fallen in that would’ve been it. And there was that lad Billy. Have I ever told you about the time—’

  ‘Stop it, Kate!’ Catherine said in sudden agitation. ‘Bridie doesn’t want to hear all that tittle-tattle from years ago.’

  Bridie looked between the two of them, her face alert to the sudden change in mood. Catherine got up abruptly and went to fetch the second bottle of beer she had got in reserve. She put it in front of Kate with a warning look.

  ‘No more stories,’ she said lightly. Turning to Bridie she smiled. ‘That was a lovely dinner. How about we take Tuppence for a walk before it gets dark?’

  ‘What about the plum puddin’?’ Kate cried.

  ‘I’m too full for that just now,’ Catherine said. ‘Some fresh air will give us an appetite for the rest.’

  ‘That suits me,’ Bridie said, getting up quickly.

  ‘Well, me and Maisie will stay and play snap,’ Kate announced, ‘won’t we, hinny?’

  ‘Snap,’ Maisie repeated.

  Catherine felt relief at the decision. What did it matter if Kate drank all the beer while they were out? It was only for one day in the year.

  The two friends enjoyed a chill, bracing walk in the fading light down to the harbour. The warm lights from houses and the sound of a piano being played in an upstairs room gave Catherine a contented feeling, as she hung on to Tuppence’s new leather rein and hurried after him.

  They paused by the harbour wall. The sea glinted bronze under the wintry setting sun.

  ‘What was all that about a boy called Billy?’ Bridie suddenly asked.

  Catherine’s heart jolted. ‘Nothing,’ she said dismissively. ‘Just a prank that went wrong. Lad fell off the timbers and went into the Slake, nearly drowned. Us other bairns got a good hiding for it. That’s all.’

  ‘But it still upsets you?’ Bridie said quietly.

  Catherine shrugged. ‘Haven’t thought of it for years. Just don’t like the way Kate keeps bringing up the past once she’s had a drink inside her. You never know what fanciful tales she’s going to come out with.’

  Bridie put an arm about her. ‘She can say what she likes, it doesn’t change a thing. I’ll still think the best of you. Even if you were a bossy little madam,’ she teased.

  ‘I never was!’

  Bridie gave a raucous laugh. ‘You couldn’t run a laundry if you didn’t have a little bit of the bossiness in you.’

  Catherine laughed abruptly too. ‘No, I suppose you’re right.’

  Somehow, her friend always managed to make her see the funny side, so her anxiety vanished. Together they returned with the panting dog, which flopped in happy exhaustion by the electric fire.

  Drawing the curtains against the dark, they ate the plum pudding and the tea of scones and cake that Kate had baked the day before. Bridie turned on the wireless and they listened to an orchestra while playing cards and drinking tea.

  Kate fell asleep by the fire and Catherine read a story to Maisie until they were all too sleepy to stay awake. On her way to bed, Catherine checked to see if the sherry bottle was still hidden at the bottom of her wardrobe. It was there, with half the sherry still untouched. Catherine lay down with Tuppence curled up at her feet, feeling full and drowsily contented. It had turned out to be the best Christmas she could remember for an age.

  It was only much later, after Boxing Day and when they were back at work, did she think to check the sherry bottle more closely. Kate had drunk its contents and replaced them with cold tea.

  Chapter 33

  At first Kate managed to cover up her drinking. Catherine was pleased that her mother seemed to warm to their new dog, Tuppence, and offered to take him for walks in the short January afternoons.

  ‘Makes a purpose of ganin’ out,’ Kate said. ‘And Maisie’s taken a shine to him - keeps the lass from under me feet when I’m busy in the kitchen.’

  So Catherine walked the boisterous puppy in the dark early mornings and then left him in Kate’s care. That winter was a busy one at the workhouse laundry, with an increase in destitute inmates and unemployed vagrants seeking a bed for the night. Catherine and Bridie worked long and hard, happy to return home to one of Kate’s hot meals and Tuppence’s frantic welcome.

  Often Catherine was so exhausted, she went straight to bed after tea, Bridie and Kate vying to make the most fuss over her.

  ‘I’ll bring you in a cup of tea, hinny,’ Kate offered.

  ‘No, it’s rest she needs, not more of your tea.’ Bridie was adamant.

  ‘What’s wrong with me tea?’ Kate bristled.

  ‘It’s so strong it’ll keep her awake till the small hours.’

  ‘I’ve always made it like that - the lass likes it that way, don’t you, Kitty?’

  Catherine felt tired just listening to them. ‘I don’t need anything, thank you. I just want to sleep.’

  ‘There you are!’ Bridie said with satisfaction. ‘Leave the girl be. We don’t want her wearing herself out and bringing on one of those bleeds.’

  ‘I know more about them than you do,’ Kate snorted.

  Catherine shot Bridie a pleading look and her friend swallowed a retort.

  Suddenly she smiled. ‘Of course you do,’ Bridie agreed. ‘You’re her mother, aren’t you? We both want what’s best for the girl.’ She turned to Catherine. ‘You get yourself to bed. Kate and I will sit by the fire and finish the pot of tea together and maybe have a wee game of cards. Won’t we, Kate?’

  Kate was quite disarmed by the sudden charm, and meekly agreed. It occurred to Catherine, as she lay in bed listening to them chatting in the next room, that it suited Bridie to keep in with Kate. How else would Maisie be able to stay with her? If Kate withdrew her co-operation, Maisie would have to go back to Ireland.

 
So Catherine ignored the small telltale signs that something was wrong at home: a carelessly broken plate blamed on Maisie, scorched ironing, milk put away in the cupboard instead of the pantry. At times Kate seemed absent-minded, but she never smelt of drink, just strongly of lily of the valley given to her for Christmas.

  It was a Saturday in February, when Catherine was taking the dog for a walk around the old town with Maisie, that Tuppence pulled her into the doorway of a public house.

  ‘Not in there,’ Catherine said, pulling him away. The dog barked at the door. Maisie stood waiting. ‘Come on, Tuppence,’ Catherine urged, but he barked louder.

  Just then the door swung open and a small, stout man in a mustard-coloured waistcoat came out.

  ‘Hello, old fellow,’ he chuckled, patting Tuppence fondly. ‘Didn’t expect you here today. Haven’t got your bone.’ He glanced up. ‘Hello, Maisie.’ He gave Catherine a quizzical look. ‘You walking the old boy for Kate, are you?’

  Catherine gawped at him. ‘This is my dog,’ she stuttered.

  The man looked disbelieving but shrugged. ‘Well, you’re welcome to come in, miss. Any friend of Tuppence is a friend of mine,’ he joked.

  Catherine looked at him indignantly. ‘I most certainly won’t be coming in.’ She yanked on the dog’s lead and dragged him off down the lane, calling sharply to Maisie to follow.

  By the time they got to the harbour wall, she was seething with anger. She turned on Maisie.

  ‘How many times have you been to the Penny Luck with Kate?’

  Maisie stared at the fishing boats as if she had not heard.

  ‘Do you go in there with her?’ Catherine demanded. When the girl said nothing, Catherine seized her by the arm and shook her. ‘Answer me! Do you and Kate go drinking together?’

  Maisie met her look, her eyes wide with terror. She pulled away whimpering and began to cry out for her mother. Catherine tried to calm her down.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be cross with you. You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s Kate I’m mad with.’ She stroked the girl’s hair as Bridie did to soothe her, but Maisie would not stop wailing.